No Fixed Plans
by winnersaggression
Summary: It is said that everything is planned. Carefully, intricately, for perfection, for success. Even Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy plan... But even the best laid plans fail. **Set during/after 7th year at Hogwarts. Please disregard all previous events.**
1. Planned

Hermione Granger was sick and tired of being pushed around, insulted, and humiliated by Draco Malfoy.

She decided so as she sat in the front row of McGonagall's class, trying to ignore the insufferable snickering from her left side. A large sigh escaped her mouth and she turned away from the noises, trying to take notes of the advanced spell McGonagall was describing. However, she was just as distracted by Ron snoring quietly from her right and Harry doodling absentmindedly on his piece of parchment. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to face her professor, quickly picking up on the lesson. The charm, Ebublio, was fairly complex, though Hermione had no doubt that she could perform the task.

"This charm requires great amounts of skill and concentration for a prolonged period of time," McGonagall droned as she paced back and forth. "Prolonged being about 15 seconds, of course. We don't want you too distracted for too long now do we?" This question was greeted with an awkward silence, interrupted by a slight snort from Ron. With an irritated scowl, McGonagall turned to Hermione. "Miss. Granger, would you kindly return your classmate to the world of the living?" Hermione looked at Ron, trying to ignore the small line of drool hanging from his wide open mouth.

"Ronald. Wake up." She poked him with the tip of her wand sharply on the cheek and Ron sprang awake, nearly falling backwards off his chair.

"I'm awake, I'm good," He said, dazed, trying to regain his balance. McGonagall's eyebrows shot up, nearly leaving her forehead and disappearing into her hairline.

"Is that so? Well, then perhaps you can tell us what the Ebublio charm does then?" Rob looked to Hermione for the answer, opening his mouth silently then closing it again.

"Well, erm, I suppose that this charm, um, quite possibly… Turns a snake into a belt?" Ron grinned shyly.

"Would anyone like to enlighten Mr. Weasley as to the function of this spell? Miss. Granger?" Hermione's hand had shot into the air immediately upon Ron's answer, as horribly wrong as it was. The snickers from behind and to her left got louder, but Hermione pushed them to the side.

"The Ebublio charm is a defensive mechanism. When preformed, it turns the object or, if desired and the skill is acquired, the person to inflate and burst into hundreds of bubbles." The sound of students shuffling in the corridors outside the classroom distracted the students, Hermione included, from the rest of her description. McGonagall sighed.

"Yes, excellent. 10 points to Gryffindor. For next class I want each of you to come prepared to concentrate on performing this spell on an object. Rest your minds and practice concentration. Oh! And prepare a 6 inch essay on the origins of this charm and the dangers of using it on a living being." The class had already started packing up and standing up by the time this speech was finished, Hermione included. She could not stand the snickering anymore. If Malfoy was going to whisper about her to his cronies, she didn't have to be sitting 10 feet from them while they did it.

As she walked out of the class, following far behind a groggy Ron and distracted Harry, a tall blonde figure stepped in her path, stopping her dead in her tracks. She looked up into the face of Draco Malfoy, her eyes flashing.

"Get out of my way, Malfoy." He grinned and rolled his eyes.

"So, were those your bedside manners in there Granger? Because, if they were, remind me never to get into your bed." The comments drew loud guffaws from Crabbe and Goyle, a shriek of laughter from Pansy Parkinson.

"As if you would get into my bed in the first place, Malfoy. " She pushed past him, walking toward the Great Hall. He laughed and followed at her side.

"You're right on that one, Granger. I'd never get that close to a filthy Mudblood, would I?" Pansy giggled incessantly from behind them.

"Nor I with a prick like you. Fuck off, Malfoy," Hermione said, spinning on her heel, holding her wand tightly in her hand. Draco Malfoy looked at her for a moment, smirked and let out one of his real, hearty laughs.

"As you wish, Granger. He put his arm around Pansy and pulled her to his chest. "Maybe I will go 'fuck off'." He grinned down at an eager Pansy, who smirked and raised her eyebrows at Hermione.

"You are disgusting, Malfoy," she said as she turned away, a twinge of some unnamed emotion tugging at her stomach. She couldn't describe the feeling. After she took a few steps and walked away, she heard Malfoy call out to her again.

"At least I'm not a prude." She spun around once again, appalled at Malfoy's below the belt attacks on her today. As she looked on, Malfoy pressed his lips to Pansy's and snogged her hard and without feeling. Pansy seemed to enjoy it, but Hermione couldn't help but notice the tension in Draco's shoulders.

She shook her head, laughed at the display, and resumed her walk to the Great Hall. As she walked alone, finally, with nothing but her thoughts to occupy her, a thought crossed her mind.

The only way to get Draco to leave her alone was to humiliate him just as badly as he had humiliated her, if not worse. She could pull it off, she was sure. It would take planning, careful maneuvering, and lots of confidence. She would do it. Hermione grinned to herself as the plan grew in her mind and she walked straight past the Great Hall and the sounds of lunch, heading for the main doors, ready to put her plan into motion.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy snogged Pansy until he was sure that Hermione was far out of sight. In all honesty, he thought that Pansy was a disgusting git, but he kept her around just to enhance the effect of his supremacy over that nasty Mudblood. He pushed her away roughly, repulsed by the places that her hands had wandered. She was grinning smugly as he looked away from her, shaking his head and frowning.<p>

"Draco," she wined at him, grabbing at his arm, "Why do you always wear such a nasty look on your face?" Draco's eyebrows furrowed.

"What nasty look?" He snapped at her. She rolled her eyes.

"The one you are wearing right now." She touched his cheek gently. "why not show off that pretty face of your-" Draco smacked her hand off his face. Pansy looked startled and shook her hand as if he had actually hurt her. "Ouch, Draco…"

"Shut it, Pansy." She let out a small 'humph' and stormed away, Crabbe and Goyle looking confusedly between her and Draco. "Well, follow her if you want, you great buffoons!" Crabbe looked at Goyle and shrugged his shoulders, then glanced back at Draco. "Go." He waved them off in her direction. They hurried away, calling out to the girl.

Draco turned and headed in the direction Granger had headed, robes billowing out behind him as he stormed down the empty corridor. The only sound was the clicking of his shoes on the tile. He ran a hair through his platinum blonde hair, trying to flatten the places Pansy had ruffled, letting a sigh escape his lips, his shoulders finally slumping down from their rigid posture.

Draco genuinely hated Hermione Granger. He couldn't place a finger on the exact reason. After all, she really hadn't done anything to make him hate her… Well, besides being a Mudblood. But he hated all Mudbloods. It was how he had been raised. Maybe it was the fact that she knew more about the magical world than he did and he had been living in it for his whole life. Maybe it was the recognition that she got from Dumbledore and the staff for her "ability" and "bravery".

But, what he thought it was that made him hate he so much was the fact that nothing he could say to her or to her friends seemed to affect her. She always had a comeback or a sharp laugh and an eye roll. He had to break her, at all costs.

* * *

><p>Hermione hatched her plan sitting outside the Ouidditch pitch in the warm spring sun, a gentle breeze ruffling her hair.<p>

**AUTHORS NOTE:**

**The place and time of this story are different than the original stories. **

**I am placing them in the end of their 7****th**** year at Hogwarts, about to graduate and go into the real world. **

**Don't hate, just appreciate!**

It was almost the end of the year, almost time to say goodbye to school and say hello to real life, though she did not really know what she was going to do. The only thing she had really been good at (besides reading, retaining, and applying magical information) was helping Harry and Ron. She was an outstanding student and could probably get a job anywhere she wanted, but how could she if she didn't even know what she wanted in the first place?

The first part of her plan required her to graduate safely and without killing Malfoy before she had time to actually put her plan into motion. Hermione looked down at the piece of parchment that she had in her hands, placing her quill and ink bottle back in her bag. On the scrap, she had scratched out the steps of her plan.

_Identity._

_Recognition._

_Friendship._

_Trust._

_Detach._

_Humiliate._

_Reveal._

It wouldn't be easy, but she would do it.

Draco Malfoy would be hers.


	2. Discovery

Hermione Granger flicked her wand lazily at eh bathroom lights, dimming them down to just a light glow. She removed the protective towel from her body and slipped into the bathtub, letting the warm water and soft bubbles caress her tired body. It is unhealthy for a 19 year old to feel this tired, she thought to herself as she closed her eyes, exhaling and letting her muscles relax.

It was nearly a year after her graduation from Hogwarts and Hermione often found herself wishing that she could go back there, where things were simple. She let herself sink further into the water, her chin dipping into the bubbles. Honestly, she didn't know how she had often where she was today, in a small apartment in London by herself. Another sigh escaped her lips as she remembered back. She didn't know what had happened since graduation. Hermione thought that she and Ron had had a connection, that they might be leaving Hogwarts hand in hand, together. She shook her head and dipped her hair into the water.

With grades like hers, the Ministry of Magic had scouted Hermione before school was over, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures most prominently. She still worked for them, trying to use her position to continue S.P.E.W. in her free time. She laughed silently to herself. What free time? She ran around that department like a chicken with her head cut off, no pun intended. SHE was the only one who could research cases; SHE was the only one who could write reports… It was ridiculous.

Hermione didn't see Harry and Ron much these days. Harry had done what he said he wound, gone to become an Auror. He was basically back in school for a year or two, but Hermione knew that he would be fine. He was Harry Potter after all. Ron… Last Hermione had heard, Ron was traveling around Europe for the Ministry. She thought that his title might have been something like "Negotiator" or "Mediator", but she couldn't remember. He wrote her occasionally, though not as much as Harry did, nor did he write her as much as she wrote him. Last time he had written, he was in France dating a girl named Alice. From the sounds of it, things were getting serious for Ron's standards.

She didn't really keep in touch with anyone else from Hogwarts. Occasionally she would see faces she recognized in the halls or the elevators of the Ministry, but she hardly recognized people anymore. Hermione had apparently finally grown up. No one would recognize her now. Her bushy hair had relaxed to sleek waves, her face thinning out to show off her high cheekbones, the freckles fading. Her legs had lengthened and grown more muscular, her breasts becoming more prominent. She looked less like child and more like a woman every day. Seeing herself in the mirror was a shock sometimes.

Hermione opened her eyes and sat up in the bathtub, reaching for the book she was reading (this one was for pleasure only, nor education). She flipped through the well worn pages of the book. It was one of her favorites, one that she could read over and over again. A slip of paper fluttered out of the pages around half-way and Hermione grabbed it quickly with her free hand, saving it from the water below.

On the top of the paper was "Draco Malfoy", written in big, bold letters. She re-read her list and sighed. This wasn't in the cards. She hadn't seen Draco in ages, even thought of Draco in ages. He was a tiny blip on her radar now. She sat up in the bath abruptly. Now was the perfect time to put her plan into motion, she thought to herself.

Perhaps she had forgotten for just the right amount of time. She ran her fingers lightly over the list, thinking. She grabbed her wand with her free hand and flicked it at the lights. The room brightened and her towel floated over to her, wrapping around her body by itself as she continued to study the first word on the list.

Identity... She could create a new one now. Hermione grinned to herself in satisfaction, her brain now boiling with all her old grievances with Malfoy. Oh, she was going to do this. With another flick of her wand, the list became stuck to the bathroom mirror. She glanced at it a she left the bathroom, still grinning to herself.

This could work.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy kicked the door closed behind him, not tearing himself from the girl he was clutching to his chest. Her hands were already working his shirt out of his belt and letting her fingers twist the buttons loose. They managed to separate their lips for long enough to allow Draco to pull her skin-tight shirt over her head and let it drop to the floor. The girl had worked his shirt completely off, letting it fall in a silky puddle on the floor next to hers, exposing his washboard abs and sculpted chest to her hands.<p>

They worked their way to the tattered bed in the center of the bare room quickly, hands roaming over exposed flesh until they were horizontal on top of the covers. Draco found himself like this often, maybe once a week. It was never the same girl, he made sure of that. He didn't even care who they were. He'd slept with these days. They could be half-bloods or purebloods. But never Mudbloods. The thought repulsed him, even as he fumbled with the bra underneath him. Perhaps he should just focus on the girl beneath him at this moment, he mused as she kissed his neck, pulling him back to the moment.

…oOo…

The girl was sleeping on her side, facing away from him, the starched white sheets tucked around her bare figure. Malfoy lay on his back with his hands tucked behind his head, breathing lightly and staring at the ceiling. He did his best thinking at this point in the week. Partly in an alcohol and sex related haze, somewhere between confusion and ecstasy. He could lay there for hours, listening to the girl sleep and the sounds of the night. Draco had had this habit for nearly 5 months now. He counted backwards in time in his head.

Graduated to the real world a year ago, enjoyed life for a few months, but eventually things came crashing down. The repercussions of his father's associations had finally caught up with him. Purebloods were looked down upon these days. No one trusted them at all, starting to discriminate against them. Ministry officials were looking for brains more than blood, something that put Draco at a disadvantage. Intimidation could no longer get him what he wanted, nor could his lineage.

He had a position at the Ministry, like so many of his classmates, though they didn't keep in contact anymore. Draco had made it clear at Hogwarts that he was much better than his classmates, so it was not much of a shock to anyone that he disassociated himself from them. His hair was as blonde as ever, though he was slightly taller and more muscled than before.

As he lay there, he thought back to the days where he tormented the poor nitwit Potter and his stupid friend Weasley. His mind even thought to that Mudblood, Granger. He frowned at the paint peeling off the ceiling, reaching for his wand on the bedside table, flicking it at the paint, trying to re-stick it to the boards. He rolled out of bed, trying not to wake the girl. He paced the length of the room, wondering. What was that Granger up to these days?

Perhaps he could find her, he smirked to himself, stepping around a creaky floor board, play a little game with her head, just like the old days. He paused by the door, picking his discarded shirt up and slipping his arms into the sleeves and buttoned the buttons, fixing the collar. Yes, he would do just that.

It would be more fun than sleeping with intoxicated girls.


End file.
